


The Escapologist's Bikini, and Other Costumes

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Corsetry, F/F, Finger Sucking, Groping, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:33:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25812865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Yaz and the Doctor end up stuck in quite a few places.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 62
Collections: Femslash After Dark 2020





	The Escapologist's Bikini, and Other Costumes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wretcheddyke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wretcheddyke/gifts).



> I loved your prompt, couldn't resist!

_It really is lucky I'm not claustrophobic,_ Yaz thought, crouched in the tiny crawl space beneath Jed'leine's hive. _If I was claustrophobic, this would be really unfortunate._

If she made any noise at all, the emperor's drones currently searching their friend's home would find them and... well, it was best not to think of what might happen. 

Yaz's heart was beating very loud in her ears, and she could feel the panic sitting on the edge of her mind, like a hot ball of lead. She was shaking, and she only realized it when the Doctor's hand came out to grab her own. 

Yaz shot the Doctor a look - she could just make out the other woman, though cracks in the floor. The Doctor gave her a nervous smile, but she was clearly on edge. 

The drone's heavy boots made their way over them, blotting out the light, and Yaz was faintly surprised at the tears that were tracking down her face. She was normally very good in a crisis - one of the things about herself she was the most proud of. So why was she panicking _now_? 

The Doctor pressed against her back, chin on her shoulder, arms wrapped around her waist, hands on her belly. "It'll be alright," she said in a low voice. "We'll be okay." Her breath was very warm against Yaz's cheek, and her breasts were very soft against Yaz's back.

Yaz nodded, and took comfort in the contact, as Jed'leine's voice floated down, assuring the drones there weren't any offworlders on the premises. They would be okay - they'd gotten out of worse scrapes then this. 

The important thing to do now was to stay quiet, and to wait. 

* * *

“Told you we’d get out of that in one piece,” the Doctor said several hours later, as the two of them made their way back to the TARDIS. 

“My _back_ ,” Yaz said. “Next trip we make, can we do somethin’ nice? Maybe not overthrowing a government?” 

“I’d hardly call that overthrowing it,” the Doctor said. “Was only a tiny little revolution.” She pinched her fingers close together. “Tiny. Itty bitty. Barely anything.” 

Yaz rolled her eyes, but she was grinning. “Someplace _calmer_ ,” she said firmly. 

The Doctor put a hand on her shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. Yaz flushed, remembering the sensation of the Doctor’s arms around her. Her stomach clenched, and she licked her lips. “You gonna be okay, Yaz?” Her voice was full of concern.

“Nothin’ a hot shower and a good night sleep can’t fix,” Yaz said, and she tried to keep her voice chipper. “I’ll be fine.”

“We can have some down time in the TARDIS,” said the Doctor. She draped an arm over Yaz’s shoulders, and she gave Yaz a squeeze, before letting go. “Board games, arts and crafts, the whole shebang.” 

“What kinda arts and crafts do you even have? Space arts and crafts?” Yaz grinned. “Lookin’ forward to it.” She gave an awkward little half wave, and made her way down the TARDIS corridor. 

* * *

Yaz went for a swim the next morning. If it could be called morning - times of day were complicated, when parked in the middle of the Time Vortex. 

Yaz had woken up with a need to feel light and buoyant, to remind her body that she wasn't still crouched under the floor. The Doctor had mentioned a swimming pool a few times, and Yaz had seen it in passing, when she was on her way to other things. She found it easily enough, after she had her breakfast. 

She also found the Doctor in the pool, paddling about. She was wearing a blue and white striped bathing costume, like something out of an old movie. She grinned when Yaz came in. 

"Fancy a paddle about?" The Doctor shifted, so that she was floating on her back, her hands behind her head. 

"Somethin' like that," Yaz said. "D'you think the wardrobe might have a bathing suit I could borrow?"

"Oh, definitely," said the Doctor. "We've got loads of 'em; in every style you could think of." She paused. "Although maybe avoid the wool ones. They get really heavy when they're wet."

"Why would someone have a _wool_ swimsuit?" The very idea of wool that close to her skin made her itch. 

"People didn't used to have lycra and spandex and all them other fancy fabrics to make clothes," the Doctor said. 

"What's that thing made of, then?" Yaz indicated the Doctor's own striped outfit. 

"This is from the neo-Jazz Age revival, in the 2290s," the Doctor said. "State of the art swimming technology!"

"Of course it is," Yaz said, and she made her way towards the wardrobe. 

* * *

When Yaz came back into the big, tiled room that housed the pool, she tried to walk with confidence. She'd chosen the white bikini on a whim - she wasn't usually one for this kind of bathing suit, but it _was_ just her and the Doctor. 

And okay, so maybe she'd noticed the way the Doctor's eyes sometimes lingered on her lips, the curve of her waist. She could swear she'd seen the Doctor staring at her arse at least once. So maybe some of this was... well, she wasn't sure, exactly, but the way the Doctor's eyes flicked over her was certainly nice. 

"I remember that one," the Doctor said, and she paddled to the edge of the pool, resting her elbows on the side and looking up at Yaz. "That belonged to a friend of mine, ages ago." She grinned, and her nose wrinkled up. "You know my skeleton key? Got it from her!" 

"What was she like?" Yaz sat down on the edge of the pool, then slid down into it. The water wasn't cold, but it was cool enough to still be a shock to the system. 

"Amateur escapologist," the Doctor said. "Very clever. Had a great many adventures." She dived down under the water, and swam along the bottom. The light blue of her suit contrasted with the turquoise of the pool tiles, and Yaz could just make out the shape of her, swimming along the bottom like a seal. 

When the Doctor surfaced, her hair was slicked back, and she gasped, then grinned at Yaz, her cheeks very pink. "Love a good swim," she said, then; "turn around, I think your top is a bit too loose." 

"Does it?" Yaz looked down. She seemed pretty covered, although the bikini top still felt like it was a bit too loose. She'd never worn a halter style bikini top before, and it had been surprisingly difficult to get it tied right. 

"Yeah - loose fabric along the edge," the Doctor said, and she flapped her hand towards the sides of the bathing suit, where the fabric was indeed slack.

Yaz blushed, although she wasn't sure why. The Doctor didn't have any interest in anything... sexual, as far as Yaz knew, apart from the occasional salacious look. But everyone gave salacious looks, didn't they? As far as she could tell, at any rate. "Could y'fix it?" 

"Yeah, sure," said the Doctor. 

Yaz turned around, so that she was staring straight at the wall. There was a painted mosaic, with a picture of some old Greek god carrying a trident. Was that Neptune? Or was that Poseidon? She'd had a mythology phase when she was a kid, but it had been a while, and all of the art seemed to draw the big, important gods the same way.

Then the Doctor's fingers were trailing across Yaz's back, and her whole brain short circuited. The touch was gentle - just the very tips of the Doctor's fingers, and barely any pressure. It was almost light enough to be ticklish, and it was raising goosebumps all along Yaz's back, spreading in waves towards her arms, her legs, her belly. Her nipples were getting hard, and all the little hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. 

The Doctor didn't say anything - she didn't seem to be paying much attention to the reaction she was eliciting from Yaz. Then her hands were going to the knot at the base of Yaz's neck, which was holding the bikini top in place. The Doctor pulled it free with ease (Yaz really _had_ needed to fix it, then), but she didn't tie it back up. 

Yaz's arms came up, crossing her arms over her chest to keep the bikini top up. She had braided her hair and pinned it up, since she had been planning on swimming, and the back of her neck was utterly bare. The Doctor's fingers were gentle on it, but it was still intense enough that Yaz had to press her thighs together, and bite her lip to keep from making any embarrassing noises.

The Doctor was being quiet, and that always made Yaz nervous. She didn't seem to be full of her usual manic energy, either - she just gently touched Yaz's back, Yaz's neck. Her hands strayed to Yaz's sides, feeling along Yaz's ribs. Her hands moved lower, to the dip in Yaz's waist, to Yaz's lower back.

_I think I'd let her grab my arse_ , Yaz thought, as the Doctor's palm brushed over the waistband of the bikini bottoms under the water. . _Forget let, I think I want her to._ The Doctor's skin was warmer than the water, but still cooler than Yaz's own skin, and the contrast in temperature seemed to be waking up every nerve in Yaz's body. She was aware of it all, of the way it all seemed to be touching her, in so many different ways. 

The Doctor began to move her hands farther up. She gripped Yaz's hips for a moment, and she leaned in close enough that her breasts were snug and soft against Yaz's shoulder blades. 

_We're almost the same height,_ Yaz thought, and that was a strangely dizzying thought. She always thought of the Doctor as so much bigger than she was, so much _more_ , but the Doctor was barely even up on her tiptoes as she leaned in closer, her wet hair leaving a damp trail across Yaz's cheek. Her chin was on Yaz's shoulder, and her hands were moving along Yaz's belly, but upwards. 

Neither of them had said anything. The only sounds were the gentle slosh of the water, and their breathing. Yaz's heart was beating loudly in her ears - loud enough the Doctor could probably hear it. Her nipples were hard against the insides of her arms, as she held the bikini top in place, and her mouth was very dry. 

_I want her to grab my tits,_ Yaz thought. _I should just move my arms, let the stupid top fall down into the water, and let her grab my tits. That's an obvious signal, right?_

The tips of the Doctor's index fingers were against the bottoms of Yaz's forearms now. If Yaz moved her arms, her breasts would pop out. Assuming that was what the Doctor wanted? Was Yaz making an assumption? The Doctor hadn't _said_ anything, but was this the sort of thing that people said anything about? The last time Yaz had gotten felt up, she'd been making out with Maggie Cohen, and things had... progressed. A to B to C. Kissing to fingers in hair to hands on hips to hands up shirts. 

Not just... touching. Light, gentle touching that was making Yaz's toes curl against the tiles at the bottom of the pool. 

An alarm sounded somewhere, in the depths of the TARDIS, and a light flashed. The Doctor jerked back with a loud splash, and she wasn't touching Yaz anymore, she was climbing out of the pool.

"That compression coil won't stay _compressed_ ," I swear," the Doctor grumbled, and she was making her way down the hallway, dripping water. "Sorry, Yaz, I'll be back in a tick," she called over her shoulder. Her voice echoed, and seemed to bounce off of all of the tile and the water.

"It's no problem," Yaz called back weakly. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the edge of the pool, and she sank down deeper into the water, until her bathing suit was floating. 

_Well,_ she thought, as she finally tied her bikini top back on, then flopped back into the water, _what was that about?_

Her skin was still tingling from the Doctor's fingers, and even diving down into the water couldn't cool the flush in her cheeks, or the desperate throbbing between her legs. She needed a wank, desperately, but now wasn’t the time. At least she'd wait until she wasn't wearing the escapologist's bikini.

(That would have made for an _excellent_ band name, or maybe a novel by that one author her mum liked, Murakami.)

If nothing else, she could burn off some of the nervous energy by swimming a few laps. 

* * *

The Doctor didn’t mention their little interlude in the pool. The next time Yaz saw her, the other woman was leaning over the TARDIS console, fiddling with some dial. 

“Good swim?” The Doctor had changed out of her own bathing costume. 

“Yeah,” Yaz said. “Yeah, It was a good swim.” She cleared her throat. “You, uh… you got tired of being in the water, then?” _Did I do something wrong? Is that why you didn’t come back?_

“I got distracted,” the Doctor said, and she looked faintly sheepish. “I was gonna come back, then ended up gettin’ sidelined by…” She wrinkled her nose, scrunching her whole face up. “Y’know, now I don’t remember.” 

Yaz smiled. No matter what, the Doctor was guaranteed to still be the Doctor. 

“Fancy a cuppa?” The Doctor crossed her arms, leaning her hip into the console. “Everything seems situated here, we could have some tea, watch some movies, continue our relaxation.”

“How long d’you think you’ll be able to _stand_ the relaxation?” Yaz teased. “Doesn’t seem to be the sort of thing you’d be much good at.” 

“I have many skills,” the Doctor said, and she sniffed haughtily, then giggled. 

There was an awkward silence, and then the Doctor went back to the console. “Meet you in the green kitchen in a few,” she said. “I just gotta finish this calibration.” 

“I’ll put the kettle on for ya,” Yaz agreed.

* * *

To the Doctor’s credit, her tea still had steam coming out of the mug when she joined Yaz in the kitchen with the avocado green appliances. 

* * *

"Why is it that every time we go someplace historical, I need to dress to match everyone else, and you can just swan about in your normal clothes?" Yaz was walking carefully, holding on to the hem of her dress to keep it from dragging in the mud too much. All around them, people called out, singing, laughing. There was the scent of food on the air, and the Ferris wheel (the first ever!) stood stark on the horizon. 

"Excuse you," said the Doctor, "I'm dressed nice! Put on a new waistcoat!"

Yaz snorted, looking the Doctor up and down. Her friend still had on her customary coat, and was wearing the blue trousers cut to the shin. "I don't think you're gonna blend in," she said dryly.

"Well," said the Doctor, and she leaned closer to Yaz, linking her arm through Yaz's, "if ever there was a place to not blend in, it'd be here!" She made a wide, sweeping gesture with her other hand, indicating the white city and the bustling crowd around them. 

"I can't argue with that," Yaz agreed. She leaned in closer to the Doctor (made a bit difficult by the corset), and tried to hide her shiver when the Doctor gave her fingers a squeeze. 

Truth be told, the only thing Yaz had really known about the Columbian Exposition had been that there had been a serial killer, and the mayor of Chicago had been assassinated. Sonya had watched a particularly grisly documentary about it, a few months ago. 

"It's gonna be _great_ , Yaz," the Doctor said. She was practically bouncing. "I love the Exposition. All these new ideas, all these demonstrations of science and human innovation! And the architecture! Would you believe this was all set up in almost no time at all? It'll all burn down, unfortunately, but while it's up... it's all so _beautiful_!" 

Yaz let the Doctor keep chattering, letting herself take in the sights as well. It was all very pretty, very _grand_. She let her eye pass over the Doctor, and she grinned, making appreciative noises at the right points. Sometimes, that seemed to be all that the Doctor really needed. 

"Look, Yaz," the Doctor said excitedly, "Cracker Jacks! This is the first time you lot invented Cracker Jacks!"

"When y'say it like that, you make it sound like they were invented multiple times," Yaz teased.

"They were," the Doctor said, her tone earnest as she grabbed a little paper bag of caramel popcorn and peanuts. "It's like the goat!"

"You're gonna need to explain that one a little better," Yaz told the Doctor. "Goats aren't popcorn."

"Well, no, although they get everywhere, like popcorn does," the Doctor said, and now her tone was thoughtful. The two of them were making their way towards the giant Ferris wheel, as the Doctor munched on her caramel popcorn. Their arms were still linked, and Yaz tried not to blush at the contact.

She could still remember the electrifying tingle of the Doctor's skin against her own. 

"Your mind must be going a mile a minute," Yaz said, looking at the Doctor out of the corner of her eye. "The things that pop out of your mouth sometimes make me wonder."

"You're not the only one," the Doctor said, and she held a piece of popcorn out to Yaz.

Yaz took it, and the sweetness exploded on her tongue like a firework.

* * *

The Ferris wheel was very different from the sort that Yaz was used to. The great, hanging gondolas were more akin to a train car than anything Yaz had ridden at a fair, and they were packed tight. There wasn't anywhere to sit down, and she ended up pressed into a window, staring out over the great fairgrounds spread out below her like a map.

It was more than a little claustrophobic, with all the people crammed together, but the Doctor was pressed into her back, and even through all the layers of fabric, Yaz could just about make out the sensation of the Doctor's breasts against her shoulder blades. 

"It's amazing what you humans will think of," the Doctor whispered in Yaz's ear. Her breath was ticklish, and it was making all of the little hairs on the back of Yaz's neck stand up, goosebumps ripping along her back like a stone thrown in a pond. "Just... a wheel that goes 'round and 'round. Doesn't take you anywhere, doesn't do anything, but it's one of the most enduring things of your people."

Yaz snorted. "The Ferris wheel?" The Doctor's hands were resting on her hips - she could feel the light pressure, even if it wasn't touching her skin, and the Doctor was breathing against the side of her neck. 

"Yeah," said the Doctor. Her voice was vibrating through her chest, and resonated against Yaz's own torso. "You get 'em on loads of planets. Other species find 'em fascinating." Her hands were moving from Yaz's waist to Yaz's belly, although Yaz had to look down to see it. 

She couldn't actually feel it - the Doctor's touch was light, and the corset and the dress. She leaned back on her heels, and the backs of the Doctor's hands were against the window. She was moving them up, towards Yaz's breasts - or where Yaz's breasts would be, if she wasn't wearing the shift, and the dress, and the corset. As it was, everything was a bit... flat. 

_She's feeling me up in public_ , Yaz thought, and she leaned back against the Doctor, getting lightheaded. It was very close in the gondola, and the fact that anyone could look over and see the Doctor's hands on the front of her dress was... something. Something that sent more heat throbbing between Yaz's legs, and she pressed her thighs together, her toes curling in her sensible black boots. _What if she just pulled my skirt up? She'd have to get past the ridiculous underwear, but once she did..._

The gondola creaked, and then they were moving again, as the Ferris wheel began to turn. The Doctor's hands went back to Yaz's waist, and she was speaking again, although Yaz hadn't been paying attention.

"Sorry," Yaz said, and she looked over her shoulder, meeting the Doctor's eyes. "What was that?"

"I said," said the Doctor, "d'you wanna check out the exhibition halls? They've got a whole ton of things on display."

"Sure," said Yaz, although at that moment she would have agreed to anything. "Sure. Let's do that." 

* * *

When they got back to the TARDIS, Yaz cleared her throat. She leaned against the TARDIS console, as the Doctor dashed about fiddling with things, then blurted out; "I need help getting out of these clothes."

The Doctor paused, mid-stride. "What?"

"The, uh, the dress," said Yaz. "You helped me with the last few buttons, remember?" That had been a faintly fraught moment, but the Doctor had been chatty and friendly the whole time, her hands staying exactly where they needed to be. She'd laced Yaz up, buttoned her in, and then they'd been off to the fair. 

Now it seemed that the strange energy from the swimming pool was back.

"Oh," said the Doctor. "Yeah, you're right. Sure, let's get to it, then!" She rubbed her hands together, and Yaz tried not to think about how they'd felt on her back. She smiled, and hopefully it didn't look too wan.

* * *

The Doctor unbuttoned Yaz's dress with ease, and Yaz carefully hung it over the back of a chair. "Am I gonna have to, like, wash it in a sink or somethin'?" 

"Nah," the Doctor said. "The TARDIS is gonna clean it, you'll be fine." 

"Right," Yaz said, and then she cleared her throat. "So, uh, you'll help me with the corset?" 

"'course," said the Doctor. "How'd you get in the corset?"

"Some awkward wriggling," Yaz admitted. "And you did up the last few buttons of the dress, since I couldn't reach it, remember?"

The Doctor nodded. She looked faintly distracted, and Yaz's cheeks were getting hot. How was it that she felt so naked, when she was wearing enough clothes to go out on the street in modern day Sheffield? 

Her undergarments consisted of something like a one piece cotton romper (there was probably a proper term for it, but Yaz couldn't remember at that moment) and a corset, and she was covered from thigh to shoulder, with her arms out, and the corset over it. 

And yet. 

Maybe it was because underwear was underwear, regardless of how much it was actually covering. 

"I've never worn a corset," the Doctor said, "but I've helped a few mates out of 'em." 

"You'd look nice in a corset," Yaz said, before she had time to think. She turned around, and she was blushing harder, staring straight ahead of her. There was a sweater draped over another random chair, printed with little question marks, and a scarf that looked long enough to wrap around someone like a boa constrictor. 

"Can't run in one," the Doctor said, and now she sounded distracted. There was the sensation of tightening, as the Doctor grabbed the laces of the corset, and Yaz huffed out a surprised breath. 

"I thought you'd never worn one before," Yaz said, and her voice was only a little breathless. 

Yaz could feel the Doctor's fingers as they loosened the laces, and it was getting easier to breathe. It was an odd sensation, to lose all of that support, and she could understand why some people liked to wear corsets in their day to day life.

The Doctor loosened the last of the stays, then reached around Yaz's body. She pressed the two panels of the corset, releasing the two hooks in front. Then the corset was being pushed off, to land on the floor in a heap, and Yaz took a deep breath. The Doctor's hands were surprisingly warm against her skin, even through the thin cotton. 

"It suits you," the Doctor said quietly. She pressed her hands down on Yaz's sides, and then she was grabbing the fabric of the shift, pulling it up and off. It left Yaz bare, in just her knickers and the garter holding up her stockings.

Yaz stayed in place, facing away from the Doctor. She followed the blocks of color on the ridiculously long scarf, as the Doctor's hands came back around, resting gently on her hips, her pinky resting on the garter belt. Her skin was extra sensitive, and there was a light sheen of sweat across her it. 

"You've got indents," the Doctor said quietly, as her hands went up, over Yaz's sides. "I think I pulled it too tight." 

_If she just moves her hand a little higher, she'll be touching my breast_ , Yaz thought. _I hope she doesn't mind how sweaty I am._

The Doctor traced her fingers over the indents, where the corset had dug into Yaz's skin. They were random movements, almost identical to the ones that she'd been making when Yaz was in the pool with her, but they were on Yaz's belly now, and it seemed more intense. The blood was rushing back to her skin, and it tingled. 

"What's the point of a corset, if it isn't tight?" Yaz asked, and her voice was only a little breathless. _If she looks at my knickers, she'll see the wet spot_ , Yaz thought deliriously. _What am I going to do, if she finds out?_

"The point is for... support," the Doctor said. She didn't seem to be paying attention to what she was saying, and her hands were now hovering over Yaz's breasts, close enough that Yaz could feel the warmth of them. 

_Do I cover them with my own? Do I press myself forward? I don't know what to do next, I don't want to scare her off_. 

The Doctor cupped Yaz's breasts, holding them in her hands like she was testing their weight. She let out a shaky breath, and she squeezed. Her palms were against Yaz's nipples, and she was applying just enough pressure for it to be _teasing_. She was pressing closer, and now her thumbs were rolling over Yaz’s nipples, leisurely, calmly. It was enough to make Yaz’s cunt clench around nothing, her whole body on edge. When was the last time she’d been touched like this, with such aching deliberation? 

“Next time we go someplace with period clothing, I’ll choose something a little easier on you,” the Doctor said. She gave Yaz’s nipples another little pinch, then let go. “Ever been to the nineteen sixties? Lots of sundresses then, much less boning.” She gave Yaz’s waist an almost proprietary squeeze, and then she pulled back. “I’m gonna go check that compression coil,” she told Yaz. “Come find me after you sleep, or if ya want some company?” 

_Why did you stop?_ Yaz wanted to ask. Her nipples were cold, from the attention and from the cooler air. Her whole body was buzzing, and she needed to get dressed, needed to go back to her bedroom and wank until she stopped feeling like one tightly wound spring. “I’ll do that,” Yaz told the Doctor, and her voice was entirely too reasonable. She still had her back to the Doctor, and she wondered what would have happened if she turned around.

The Doctor patted her on the back - a brief, friendly pat, completely different from her earlier caresses - and then she was off. 

“Well,” Yaz said, after the door closed, “that was certainly something.” 

* * *

"So why can't we just take the TARDIS?" Yaz rocked on her heels, and tried not to wince as another train thundered by on the opposite track. 

"It's not part of the experience," the Doctor said, her tone serene. She was leaning against a white tile pillar, which had a '42' written on it in black block letters. 

"The experience," Yaz repeated, deadpan. "So there's a whole experience now?"

"I wasn't able to come to New York for a long time," the Doctor said. "For... complicated reasons." She made a dismissive hand gesture. "I fixed it, but it took a while. And so I found a workaround at one point, before I fixed it, and I had to come in the old fashioned way." She smiled, and her expression was downright nostalgic. "So I took this same train, and then... well." She shoved her hands in her pockets, rocking on her heels. "I don't want to ruin the surprise." She paused. "Actually, I do," she amended. "I really do, but I also want it to be a surprise, so I'm keepin' my mouth shut."

Yaz snickered. 

They hadn't talked about what had happened in the wardrobe (although Yaz had masturbated to it a few times, one time coming four times in a row, which was a personal record), everything seemed to be... normal. Inasmuch as anything was ever normal, when she was traveling around with an alien who acted like a hyperactive super-genius toddler in pants that didn't go all the way down. The Doctor's hands had stayed to herself, as much as Yaz had wished they hadn't. 

The train roared across the platform towards them, and the air smelled hot. It was _warm_ , but then again, it was oppressively hot on the platform. The space from the platform to the wall was a lot... wider than on the Tube, and it lacked the familiar curve. It was simultaneously claustrophobic and too roomy. The wind from the train blew back Yaz's hair, and it tickled along her bare legs.

She didn't wear shorts that often, but... well, she was glad she did. There was sweat dripping down the backs of her knees, along the insides of her thighs, collecting under her breasts and soaking into the cups of her bra. When the train doors _dinged_ open, she was hit with a blast of cool air from the air conditioned car, and she shivered, and went to sit down on one of the yellow and orange seats.

"Nah, Yaz," said the Doctor, and she indicated the very front of the car, where a big window looked out over the tracks ahead. "Watch the tunnel!"

"I don't think the tunnel is gonna change much," Yaz said, her tone skeptical, but she did as the Doctor said, standing in front of the door. The train was just crowded enough that there were people sitting on either side of her, and she tried to feel a little less self conscious, as she listened to the recorded voice telling everyone to _stand clear of the closing doors, please_. 

The train began to move, and Yaz rocked back against the Doctor, who was suddenly pressed up against her, soft and warm against Yaz's back. Her hands were resting on Yaz's hips, and her chin was on Yaz's shoulder. "You can see the other stations coming up towards us," she said, and her breath was ticklish against Yaz's ear, "and it feels a little like flying. You humans, you decided you wanted to get from one place to another faster, so you bored these great big holes in the ground, and you all troop on through them, and you're so used to it you don't even think it's amazing."

Yaz was rocking in time with the train, and she was acutely aware of the Doctor's hands on her hips. _She always starts with the hips_ , she thought. _Or at least, she did the other times. Is she going to again?_

"You're just amazing," the Doctor breathed. "And look, see, we're on an express train, so we can see the people all waiting for their turn, and they're _bored_. Can you imagine, being bored at something so amazing?"

"You get bored by amazing things all the time," Yaz pointed out. Her shirt was starting to ride up, and the Doctor's thumbs were on the little bare strip of skin right over her waistband, drawing little circles. 

"Well, yes, but..." The Doctor trailed off. She seemed to be staring off in the distance, as the way the tunnel stretched out in front of them. 

"But?" Yaz prompted. 

The Doctor didn't answer, but her hand came down, to grab a handful of Yaz's backside through the denim of her shorts and squeeze. 

Yaz bit back a surprised noise. _She hasn't done that yet_ , she thought, and she kept staring straight ahead. 

"There's just... you lot are amazing," the Doctor said, as she kneaded at Yaz's arse like it was dough. "Absolutely amazing. 

Her other hand was going under the hem of Yaz's shirt, her palm skimming over Yaz's sweaty belly, and this time she wasn't being coy about it. She went straight to Yaz's breast, and she grabbed a handful of it right through Yaz's bra. 

As thick as the bra _was_ , Yaz couldn't feel it. She kept staring, as another station approached, and then the next station was approaching. The Doctor crowded closer to her, as more people got on the train, and Yaz was pressed into the window. _Her wrist is gonna get sore if she keeps that up_ , Yaz thought, as the Doctor's hand moved lower, following the curve of the cheek of her arse. The Doctor's hand left her, momentarily, and then the hand was slipping into her back pocket, and giving it another squeeze. 

The Doctor gave Yaz's breast a squeeze through the bra, awkwardly. She was passing her thumb over where Yaz's nipple was hard under it, but it was difficult to tell, through the thick cup. She pinched it, then moved her hand some more, grabbing the bottom of the cup and pulling it down. Yaz's breast popped out of the cup, and she bit her lip, as the Doctor pinched the nipple, rolling it between two fingers as she kneaded at Yaz's backside. 

"We're gettin' to the good part soon," the Doctor said, and she sounded excited. Her hand left Yaz's back pocket ( _is she gonna put her hand down the back of my shorts, and am I going to let her?_ ) and then there was the sensation of the Doctor's fingers trying to push between her legs, blocked by the softness of her thighs.

"Which part is the good part?" The train stopped again, and Yaz spread her legs a little wider, planting her feet. More people got on, and the Doctor was pressed closer to Yaz. Her hand went further between Yaz's legs, and she had two fingers pressed up against the seam of Yaz's shorts, up against Yaz's labia. 

"Hold on, we're almost there," the Doctor said, and she pinched Yaz's nipple the way she had in the wardrobe. 

Yaz was pressed up against the window now, close enough that the Doctor's hand was . She was rocking her hips, just a bit, but she could pass it off as rocking with the train. The Doctor was so _close_ , her breath humid and loud in Yaz's ear, her hand surprisingly warm against Yaz's skin. Then again, all of Yaz's exposed skin was cold from the air conditioning, already covered in goosebumps.

"Almost to where we're going?" Yaz asked, her mouth dry. The Doctor's hand was rubbing, back and forth, and Yaz was getting wetter. _I'm going to be so fucked if I get a wet spot_ , she thought dazedly. _There isn't a way to hide that, is there?_

"No," said the Doctor, and her fingers were moving further up, until they hit the bottom of Yaz's zipper. "But to my favorite part." She paused, and then she withdrew her hand. "Well," she said reflectively, "one of my favorite parts."

The train had been starting and stopping, and Yaz had just been staring out of the window at the tunnel unfolding before her, the stations like little windows into other worlds, full of light and people, then more darkness. There was a light in front of them now, faint, but getting brighter. Then, in seemingly no time at all, they were bursting out into sunlight, andthe train thundered along an elevated track.

"I love that bit," the Doctor said, her voice excited. "It's like... being born. When you transition from the tunnels into the light, and you can see the sky again, and the whole city spread out..." As she spoke, her hand left the hot, tight space between Yaz's thighs. 

Yaz shivered, as the Doctor's fingers pinched her nipple again, and then the Doctor's hand was going down the front of her shorts, her wrist at an awkward angle. She was practically _draped_ over Yaz's back now, and Yaz's eyes darted down, to see the sleeve of the Doctor's coat disappearing into the denim. 

"There's another good bit coming up," the Doctor said, her voice low and ticklish against Yaz's ear. Her index finger was pressed against Yaz's clit through Yaz's knickers, and she was circling it gently.

"Is there?" Yaz's voice was going high, distracted. The train stopped and started, and Yaz was so absorbed in the feeling of the Doctor's fingers on her that she didn't notice anything. Another train went by, on another track, and the houses stretched out below them, people going about their day to day lives. 

The Doctor chuckled, a puff of warm air against Yaz's ear. "Yeah," she said, and she applied a little more pressure to Yaz's clit. "I can't wait to see how you'll react!" Another press, and was Yaz imagining things, or were the Doctor's hips rolling as well? 

_Does she miss having a cock? If she had one, would I let her put it in me?_ Yaz tried to imagine that - imagined letting her legs spread wider as she stood staring out the window of the subway car, bending forward for the Doctor and taking the Doctor's cock inside of her. Imagined the Doctor's fingers inside of her, or the Doctor's tongue, right here in front of the bored commuters and whoever was looking at the front of the train.

The Doctor kept rubbing, pinching. Yaz was embarrassingly wet - she could hear the little noises it made, as the Doctor's finger moved, and Yaz's knees were starting to shake, her thighs tense up. The way the train would start and stop was almost soothing now, rocking her like the ocean - the ocean, that she could almost see in the distance. 

_I'm gonna come on a subway train_ , Yaz thought, dazed, watching the train turn a corner. _I'm gonna come on a subway train, in front of who knows how many people, and I don't even care, because if she keeps doing that -_

"Yaz, look!" The Doctor's hand suddenly withdrew from Yaz's trousers, and her other hand pulled Yaz's bra back up, withdrawing from Yaz's shirt. Her hem was straightened, and then the Doctor was bouncing behind her, and pointing. "Look!"

"Um," said Yaz, and she was still reeling, with arousal, her whole body pulsing, her nipples hard, her clit sending desperate Morse code messages across her nervous system. She blinked, and then she saw some kind of... tall structure. "What is that?"

"It's an old ride they used to have," the Doctor said, "called the parachute jump. Brilliant, it was. And look, there's the Cyclone!" She pointed at the humped curve of an old wooden roller coaster, "and the Wonder Wheel!" The Doctor grabbed Yaz's hand in her own, dragging Yaz towards the train door, and Yaz was laughing in spite of herself. Her thighs were sticky with her own arousal, and her knickers stuck to her unpleasantly. 

"Again with the Ferris Wheels," Yaz teased. The Doctor's finger was damp against her wrist, as she was pulled forward. "You've got a fixation."

* * *

Coney Island was... a lot. It was fun, no doubt - they went on the roller coaster (which was "only seventy eight years old at this point in history, don't worry, Yaz!"), they ate frozen custard and cotton candy. Yaz won the Doctor a little stuffed unicorn, they rode the Wonder Wheel. 

The Doctor kept her hands to herself as the two of them swung in the gondola, which was a pity, but nothing could have taken away from the view, as the sun set over the water and the lights all came on around them.

"It's so beautiful," Yaz whispered, as the lights all around them lit up. 

"I know," said the Doctor, and when Yaz glanced over, she saw the reds and blues reflected in the Doctor's eyes. The other woman was wearing a tender expression, and it made something in Yaz's chest get tight and painful. She offered the Doctor a smile, and the Doctor smiled back, bright enough to rival the amusement park lights. 

* * *

They rode the subway back to the TARDIS - sitting down this time. The Doctor leaned her head against Yaz's shoulder, as the train rocked them, and Yaz could almost ignore the desperate arousal that was _still_ beating through her body. 

_These knickers may just be done for_ , she thought, as they went back underground. 

The Doctor made a sleepy noise, and she laced their fingers together, her thumb making little figure eights on the back of Yaz's hand. 

Yaz licked her suddenly dry mouth, and leaned back into the uncomfortable seat. She let her own eyes drift shut, and listened to the thrum of the subway car.

* * *

Back in the TARDIS, Yaz retreated to her bedroom, shucked all of her clothes off, and humped her pillow, grinding her clit against the corner of it. She remembered the feeling of the Doctor rubbing her clit, the Doctor's breath in her ear, the feeling of the Doctor pressed up against her back. She ran through the fantasy of being bent over, of being _fucked_ in the middle of the subway car, and she came like a firework, the sweet pleasure bursting across her nerves and leaving her wrung out and panting, but still desperate for more.

* * *

"I promised you the nineteen sixties, didn't I?" The Doctor said, maybe two weeks later. "So here we are!"

Yaz squinted, and tried to resist the urge to pull down her skirt in the back a little more. She'd asked the TARDIS for "something sixties," and she'd gotten... well, it felt more like a shirt than a dress, truth be told. It only came up to the tops of her thighs, and the top was kept on by a halter around the back of her neck. 

Probably another one of the escapologist's outfits - Yaz was beginning to get a feel for some of the things she'd found around the TARDIS. Whoever had used the old exercise room had a taste for shoulder pads, and sometimes she tripped over old deodorant cans stuffed into lockers besides big, lace up boots. But she was... experimenting. 

Maybe.

The Doctor had been keeping her hands to herself. There had been a little more physical affection - the Doctor leaned against her when they watched movies together, or would sometimes hold Yaz's hand when they walked around. But no more sneaky fingers worming their way under fabric, or hands curving around Yaz's breast or backside. 

It was driving Yaz _mad_. 

"But goin' to the movies in the sixties?" Yaz looked up at the shabby theater, squinting in the mid-afternoon sun.

"Ooh, yeah," the Doctor said, her tone earnest. "Nothin' like the authentic sixties movie going experience. Especially for a proper movie!"

" _Torture Garden_ ," Yaz read out, and she wrinkled her nose. "Really, Doctor?"

"What?" The Doctor held both hands up to Yaz, and she looked entirely too innocent. 

Yaz crossed her arms across her breasts and raised an eyebrow. She wasn't wearing a bra - she wouldn't have been able to, in this dress - and she was _extremely_ aware of the way the soft cotton of her dress was pressing against her nipples. 

The Doctor grinned. "I'll buy you a popcorn," she promised Yaz.

"You were gonna do that anyway," Yaz said, but she linked arms with the Doctor anyway, leaning into her friend. At least she wasn't wearing the ridiculous platform heels she'd seen besides the dress - running in a short dress was one thing, but she didn't want to even _think_ about getting away from whatever would inevitably chase them and turning an ankle. 

"Well, yes," said the Doctor, "but now it'll have extra meaning to it, won't it!"

Yaz snorted, and she squeezed the Doctor's arm, as the Doctor spoke to the woman in the ticket booth. 

* * *

The theater was relatively empty, which didn't surprise Yaz. This movie didn't look... good. Maybe there was some secret alien in the background, that the Doctor could secretly point out, or maybe she had a walk on part, as one of her previous selves, 

The two of them ended up sat in the middle, near the back. There were a few teenagers skiving off of school, and an older man who looked more like he was about to fall asleep than like he was going to watch a movie. 

"Not a real popular one, this?" Yaz settled down on the seat with the popcorn in her lap, and took an idle handful, munching on it slowly. 

"It doesn't go down as one of the... greats, no," the Doctor said, and she took her own handful of popcorn. 

"So why are we here?" Yaz licked butter off of her fingers - it was real butter, not the fake stuff that was put on the popcorn back home, in her time. It was greasy and delicious, and her toes wriggled in her shoes. 

"I was buddies with the director," the Doctor said. "Way back in the day."

"I knew it," Yaz said, and she nudged the Doctor in the side. "You're always bragging about being friends with big time people."

The Doctor had the good grace to look sheepish. "Shush," she said, instead of a rebuttal, and then she was taking the popcorn out of Yaz's lap, and putting it in her own. 

"Good argument, that," Yaz said.

"Sh," the Doctor said. "The movies starting!"

Yaz settled back into her seat, her eyes on the screen. She didn't even jump when the Doctor's arm came around her shoulders. _I knew it was a good idea to wear this dress._

* * *

The Doctor kept her hands to herself for the first fifteen minutes of the movie. At one point, she moved the popcorn to the empty seat next to her, and then she was letting go of Yaz's shoulder. When Yaz glanced over, she saw the other woman wiping her fingers clean on a handkerchief. When she caught the Doctor's eye, the Doctor grinned, and offered it to her. 

Yaz took it, cleaning her own fingers, then handing it back. She relaxed back into the seat, and then the Doctor's arm was around her shoulders again, one hand dangling a bit too innocently. The Doctor's other hand was resting on Yaz's bare knee, right where the hem of Yaz's dress was riding up. It was taking a lot of effort for Yaz to keep from wriggling too much. 

_Is she going to touch me again?_ Yaz wondered, as the movie kept playing. The Doctor's hand was moving to the back of her neck, and Yaz was infinitely grateful she'd pinned her hair up. The Doctor's fingers were gently trailing up and down, from the knot of the halter, to where Yaz's hair started, then back again. Then the Doctor let go, and replaced the hand that had been on Yaz's knee. 

Yaz let her knees drift open, just a little bit, as the Doctor's hand moved further up. _I guess she realized how awkward it was, to have to reach across her own body_ , Yaz thought, and she bit her lip, as the Doctor's hand slipped under her dress, along her inner thigh. 

_I'm getting felt up in a movie theater_ , drifted across Yaz's mind, like a cloud across the sky. _Although does it count as felt up, in this case? Or is that only for the top half?_ It was taking a good deal of effort not to squirm - the Doctor's fingertips were very gentle, as they pressed against the cotton front of Yaz's knickers.

She was wet - she'd started to get wet the moment she'd put on the dress and imagined the Doctor's hands on her, pushing the front of her dress down or sliding under the obscenely short skirt. She bit her lip, and then the Doctor's fingertips were gently probing the wet fabric between Yaz's labia, pressing it in. 

Yaz stole a glance over at the Doctor, and found her staring at the screen, seemingly enraptured by the on screen drama as the tip of her index finger found Yaz's clit through the thin cotton and gently swirled over it.

Yaz gasped, and the Doctor shot her a look. "D'you wanna know how they do it?" She said, her voice hushed.

"How they do it?" There was a good deal of fake blood flowing across the screen, and the reddish light played across the Doctor's face. 

"Yeah," said the Doctor. "What's in the blood. I helped perfect the original recipe, y'know. Helped John figure out the recipe to get the color right." Her finger pressed a little harder on Yaz's clit, and Yaz hissed.

"W-w-what's in it, to make it so... so vivid?" Yaz leaned further back into her seat, spreading her legs a little wider. The dress rode further up Yaz's thighs, and then the Doctor pushed her hand down the front of Yaz's knickers, easy as anything.

"Blue food coloring," the Doctor said, her tone earnest. She was looking at Yaz's face, and it was the same face she wore when she was imparting some great fact, or showing Yaz a new planet. "Y'see, the thing is, you need that little bit to set off the red." The heel of her hand was pressed against Yaz's clit now, and two of her fingers were dipping into Yaz's entrance.

_I can't let her know that this is having an impact on me_ , Yaz thought, _because maybe she'll stop, and then I might die._ "couldn't they... I mean, what'd they use, in the old days? My dad said that it's ch-ch-chocolate syrup, in _Psycho_."

"Well done, Yaz's dad," the Doctor said, as she pushed her index and middle finger inside of Yaz's cunt, all the way up to the last knuckle. 

_I wish she wasn't talking about Dad right now_ , Yaz thought. "So. Blue. No... no red?" Yaz clenched convulsively around the fingers inside of her, and the Doctor's fingers curled inside of her, thumb pressed against Yaz's clit. 

"Oh, red too, obviously, but the blue is what makes it pop. Plus, y'know, corn syrup, cornstarch." The Doctor was thrusting her hand now, curling her fingers. Her bulging knuckles were _stretching_ Yaz, and it was... well, it was a lot. 

"Obviously," Yaz echoed, as she relaxed into the theater seat, letting her legs open even more. It was a faintly awkward angle, and the Doctor's wrist must have been getting sore, but Yaz was having trouble caring.

The Doctor's fingers thrust in and out of her, slow and easy, as if she was in no hurry whatsoever. She curled her fingers and kept rubbing Yaz's clit, slow rotations of her thumb, as her knuckles bulged and the pads of her fingers pressed against Yaz's g-spot. Her fingers were probably pruning up, as wet as Yaz was - it was actually _audible_ , during a quiet point in the movie, and Yaz glanced around, in case anyone noticed.

Nobody did. The teenagers were staring, enraptured, and the one guy who had looked like he was falling asleep had, in fact, fallen asleep. 

The Doctor crooked her fingers, and Yaz spasmed around them. Her orgasm came upon her like the sunrise, slow, steady, gradually getting brighter. Her hips juddered forward, and it felt like her whole body was being pulled taut, then released. She bit into her own hand to keep from gasping or moaning, and her cunt clamped tightly around the Doctor's fingers. The orgasm was deeper and harder than the ones she gave herself, and it seemed to go on and on, until she was left a trembling, panting mess. When the Doctor's fingers withdrew, there was a _gush_ of fluid, and it smeared across Yaz's thighs, soaked into her skirt and the theater seat under her.

_I'm gonna have a wet spot_ , Yaz thought dazedly, then; _did I just squirt?_ She'd seen it done a few times, scrolling through porn videos, but she hadn't ever considered it a thing that she could do. _Oh fuck, I just squirted on a movie theater seat. In the nineteen sixties._ There was a surreal cast to her thoughts, as more aftershocks pulsed through her, and then she gasped out loud, as the Doctor very gently pushed another finger into her. There were three, now, and when the Doctor curled them, her knuckles seemed to bulge that much harder. They were knobbly, and pressing against all the sensitive, delicate spots inside of her. She hadn't realized quite how many she had. 

Yaz came again, as the movie played on, and the Doctor even managed to nudge a little one out of her, that left her whimpering as the credits rolled. 

“Yaz,” the Doctor whispered, and she leaned in, so that her breath was whispering in Yaz’s ear. Her fingers were curling, gently, and her thumb was tapping away at Yaz’s clit again, “I forgot something important.”

“Mmm?” Yaz clenched around the fingers inside of her, sore, but still chasing her pleasure.

“There’s mint in there, too,” said the Doctor, and she withdrew her fingers, 

“In…?” There was no way the Doctor was implying there was mint in her cunt. Yaz had a feeling she would have noticed _that_. 

“In the fake blood,” the Doctor said cheerfully. “For taste.” She stood up, and then she leaned forward, tucking a piece of hair behind Yaz’s ear. It smeared some of Yaz’s own arousal on her cheek, and that sent another throb of arousal through Yaz’s cunt, up her spine. “Ready to head back?”

“Sure,” Yaz said faintly.

Hopefully nobody would notice the wet spot on her backside, or the way her legs were shaking as she walked out. 

* * *

Yaz was folding her socks in the laundry room when she heard the Doctor walk in. The floor was made of tile, and it rang like a bell with every step that was taken on it. In the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the Doctor's blond hair.

She knew that the TARDIS would do her laundry for her, would even fold it, but... well. There was something grounding about doing her own laundry. As much as she might have been running around the universe dealing with space rhinos and cybermen and who knew what else, she was still doing her own laundry. 

The Doctor came up behind her, and Yaz resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _So we're doing this again_ , she thought. Not that she didn't enjoy herself, because she did - the last time, the Doctor had come up behind her while she was making a sandwich in the purple kitchen, shoved a hand down the back of her trousers, and fingered her through five orgasms, before slipping her fingers into Yaz's backside, coaxing out two more orgasms. She'd washed her hands, walked out. The next time Yaz saw her, she'd just smiled and gone on a tangent about going to visit Marie Curie, and that had been that. 

But now the Doctor was pressing up behind Yaz, and her breath was hot and steamy against the back of Yaz's neck. Her hand was already sliding up front of Yaz's pajama top, under the soft, overwashed cotton, along the firm skin of Yaz's belly. She nuzzled against Yaz's neck, then mouthed it, and Yaz shivered. As the Doctor's hand moved towards Yaz's breast, Yaz finally spoke.

"Not that I don't like this," she said, and she was kicking herself already, as the words came out of her mouth, "but... d'you think we could try doing it a little different?" 

The Doctor froze against her. Full on froze like a statue. "I'm sorry," the Doctor said quietly, and there was so much _guilt_ in her voice - enough to make Yaz's guts twist up.

"No," Yaz said quickly, "no, no, you don't need to apologize." She pressed the Doctor's hand against her belly, trapping it in place. "But why haven't you just... asked me?" It was weird to be having this conversation while staring at her own socks, but the Doctor was trembling like a wild animal. 

"I was afraid you'd say no," the Doctor said quietly. "At first. And then..." She shrugged. "I was worried that it'd be weird. And it was fun."

"It's generally considered better manners to ask first," Yaz said, and kept her grasp on the Doctor's wrist. She carefully turned around, and then she was staring into the Doctor's eyes. They were very wide, and very dark.

"I was hoping you'd take my hint," the Doctor said. Her voice was rough. 

"Hint?" Yaz raised an eyebrow. 

"I was doin' it to you, so you could do it to me." The Doctor paused. "Y'know, it all made sense when I was planning it."

"Evidently," Yaz said dryly. "So d'you want me to touch you?"

" _Definitely_ ," the Doctor said, nodding frantically. "Please."

"But y'didn't think of just saying 'hey Yaz, fancy a bit of a snog?' or something along those lines?" Yaz moved her hand up, until she was cupping the Doctor's breast. "Or you could've been a little more crude, y'know, 'Hey Yaz, can I see your tits,' or something like that."

"Wouldn't wanna be crude," The Doctor mumbled. One of her hearts was beating desperately under Yaz's palm, and Yaz could faintly make out the echo of the other one. 

"So you grabbing and groping me wasn't crude?" Yaz frowned, and she pulled her hand away. The Doctor made a desperate little noise, and reached out for Yaz's hand. She let it drop, when Yaz looked at her hand, then raised an eyebrow. 

"No, that was crude too," the Doctor said. She bit her lip. "I'm sorry for being crude, Yaz." She let her hand fall down to her side. 

"Are you?" Yaz kept her eyebrow up. 

"I'm really sorry," the Doctor said.

Yaz's hand went to the hem of the Doctor's shirts, and she shoved it up, over the Doctor's breasts. The Doctor's bra was grey, and seemed to be made for utility more than anything else. It was a bit of a struggle to push the cups up over the Doctor's breasts, but she just managed. "How d'you like me just goin' ahead without asking first?" 

The Doctor's breasts were small and firm, with hard little nipples that were the same pink as the Doctor's tongue. 

"Been hoping you'd do it," the Doctor breathed. "Or... ask first, but then do it. Because I'd say yes."

"And how, exactly, was I supposed to know that?" Yaz pinched the Doctor's nipple, gave it a twist. 

"I... it made sense in my head," the Doctor said, then; "oh, Yaz, _please_!" 

Yaz pinched the Doctor's other nipple with her other hand - she had a breast in each hand, two perfect handfuls. She could feel the desperate double thud of the Doctor's hearts, and the rise and fall of the Doctor's breathing. "Please what?" She jiggled the Doctor's breasts, because she could, and the Doctor made an embarrassing little sound. 

"Please don't stop touching me," the Doctor said.

"Was it so hard to say that?" Another, savage twist, and the Doctor threw her head back, her chest heaving as she took deep, gulping breaths.

"No Yaz, weren't hard to say at all," the Doctor said. There was a manic edge to her voice, and it was making Yaz's stomach twist up in exciting ways. 

"So what are you gonna do, in the future?" Fuck, was she being too presumptuous? What if the Doctor only wanted to feel Yaz up, but didn't want... whatever this was?

"I'm gonna ask, Yaz," the Doctor said. Her voice was rough. "Please touch me, please don't stop touching me, I want you to keep touching me, _please_!"

"I am touching you," Yaz said, keeping her tone pleasant as she moved her hands down, to stroke across the soft warmth of the Doctor's belly. 

"Touch me... more?" The Doctor hazarded.

"You could be a little more specific," said Yaz, and she poked the Doctor in the belly. 

The Doctor made an embarrassing noise, and she squirmed. away, then forward. "Yaz, I haven't done anything with anyone in this body yet," she said, and there was a whining note to her voice.

"Haven't done anything?" Yaz pinched the Doctor's nipple again, a little harder this time, and she began to walk forward, forcing the other woman to back up. "You've been copping feels for _months_ , how is that not doing anything?!"

"I mean, I was... doing, but..." The Doctor's back bumped into the still rumbling dryer, and she squirmed. "I haven't... been on the receiving end of anything."

"D'you want to be?" Yaz asked, before her brain had a chance to catch up with her mouth. 

"Yes," the Doctor said quickly. "Yes, so much. Please."

"Well," Yaz said, "hop up." She indicated the dryer. _What am I doing? This isn't' the kind of thing I do, what if I end up scaring off the Doctor?_

The Doctor did as she was told - hopped up, her feet dangling off the edge, and now her head was higher than Yaz's. Her eyes kept darting from Yaz's face to her cleavage, then back up. She seemed to be shaking, although that might have just been the dryer. 

"I want to kiss you, Yaz," the Doctor said. "I want to... I want to put my mouth on every part of you."

Yaz snorted. "What, every part?"

"Every part," the Doctor said, and her tone was fervent. "Please, Yaz."

"Y'know," said Yaz, "you've gotten a chance to feel all of me. I think it's about time we turn the tables a bit." She rubbed her hands together, and she rocked on her heels. "Take your clothes off," she told the Doctor.

"Right. Of course." The Doctor's hands were steady, as she slid her thumbs under her braces and pushed them off of her shoulders, then pulled her shirts and bra up and off. She wriggled out of her trousers, letting them drop in front of her, and her boxers went with them. Then she paused. "D'you want me to keep my socks on?" 

Yaz was momentarily thrown out of her fantasy, and whatever headspace she was trying to inhabit. "What?"

"My socks," said the Doctor. "D'you want me to keep 'em on?" She waggled her feet in front of her, momentarily adorable. Then her thighs parted, and Yaz saw the damp curls covering her vulva. The arousal that hit her was a little bit like being kicked in the gut, and she took a moment to just take it all in. 

"I don't care," Yaz said, when her moment had passed, and then she was striding forward, standing between the Doctor's open legs. She rested her hands on the Doctor's inner thighs, and they were slick and sticky with arousal. "You're worked up." She gave them a squeeze, and the Doctor bit her lip and squirmed, pressing her thighs together. 

"I've been thinking about coming in here," the Doctor murmured. Her breathing seemed to get shallower, with every pass of Yaz's fingers on her thigh. "About coming up behind you, feeling you."

"Why d'you like feeling me up from behind?" Yaz let the tips of her fingers trail closer to the Doctor’s sticky wet cunt.

“You feel so good,” the Doctor said, and she was spreading her legs wider, as if in invitation.

Yaz pulled her hand back, to gently pinch the back of the Doctor’s knee. “Doesn’t answer my question,” she pointed out.

The Doctor squeaked at the pinch, and her toes curled in their socks, pressed against her thigh. “Which question?”

“Why d’you like feeling me up from behind,” said Yaz. She pinched the inside of the Doctor’s thigh, and the Doctor squeaked again, a little louder this time. 

“Because… because I feel awkward when I look you in the face and feel you up without saying anything,” the Doctor said. “Or at least, I assumed I would. I don’t know, I haven’t done it before.”

Yaz was grinning in spite of herself. The Doctor… would always be the Doctor. “So is it as awkward as you thought it’d be?” She pressed a little closer, and she palmed the Doctor’s breast, her thumb passing over the Doctor’s nipple, and she pressed her fingers against the Doctor’s vulva. 

The Doctor’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. She shivered, and she let her legs spread wider. “Oh,” she said thickly. 

“It is kinda awkward,” Yaz said, “just feeling you up like this, if I hadn’t said anything.” 

“Oh,” the Doctor said again. She hissed, her hips twitching forward as Yaz’s index finger passed over her clit. “I like that,” she said, and then she groaned, as the dryer entered some new cycle, and began to spin harder. “Oh _fuck_.”

_I’m pretty sure I know what I’m doing_ , Yaz thought, and hopefully the slightly panicky thoughts didn’t show on her face as she rubbed the Doctor’s clit and the Doctor’s nipple, little figure eights with each hand. “There’s a pretty obvious solution to that problem, y’know,” she told the Doctor. 

She could smell the Doctor’s arousal, musky and thick as it went deep into her sinuses. The Doctor’s clit was hard against her finger, and the Doctor’s vulva was sticky with slick, Yaz’s fingers slippery as they slid between the Doctor’s labia. 

“Is there?” The Doctor’s voice was going high. “Yaz, please… don’t stop, right there, there, you… stopped.” The Doctor blinked owlishly at Yaz, as Yaz’s hands both went to her hips. “Why’d you _stop_?” She sounded downright petulant, and that shouldn’t have been so cute.

“The obvious solution is to open your mouth and _talk_ to me,” Yaz said sharply. She shoved her fingers into the Doctor’s mouth, pressing down on her tongue.

“I’m sorry, Yaz,” the Doctor said, garble. She began to suck on Yaz’s finger, her expression going dreamy, and she was already starting to drool down her chin.

“So what do you want, right now?” Yaz let her palm skate across the Doctor’s sweaty, slick inner thigh. There was so much _pink_ \- the Doctor’s flushed, sweaty cheeks, her hard, pink nipples, the pinkness of her sloppy, desperate cunt. It was all making Yaz’s mouth water. 

“I’d like you to fuck me, please,” the Doctor said, meek as you please. Or at least, as meek as the Doctor ever got, which admittedly, wasn’t very. “Right now. Like this. With your fingers.”

‘Was that so hard?” Yaz parted the Doctor’s inner labia, and her two fingers slipped into the Doctor like a dream, smooth and slick and silky. She hissed, and the Doctor gasped around the fingers in her mouth. “You’re so warm inside,” Yaz added, and her voice was going rough. “It’s… nice.” _Nice? Really, Khan?_

“I haven’t felt myself yet,” the Doctor said. “Only… other people. You. I’ve felt you.” She whined as Yaz’s fingers curled inside of her, knuckles bulging. 

‘What do I feel like inside?” Yaz asked, in the spirit of gentle inquiry. She fucked the Doctor’s mouth with the fingers, fucked the Doctor’s cunt with the fingers of the other. When she thumbed the Doctor’s clit, the Doctor sobbed, curling forward. 

“Good. So good. In me, oh, Yaz, you’re in me, I’m so… I…” The Doctor’s head tilted back, and Yaz’s fingers slid out of her mouth. Her cunt grasped Yaz’s fingers, fluttered around it desperately, and then she was sagging forward, her face in Yaz’s shoulder.

“Did you just come that quickly?” Yaz’s tone was faintly incredulous, mostly teasing.

“In my defense,” the Doctor said, her voice breathless, “I’ve been thinking about touching you for _ages_.” She whimpered as Yaz’s fingers withdrew, and then Yaz was kissing her, fingers on her face, tongue in her mouth. 

It was a tentative kiss, a brush of lips on lips, and somehow it felt more intimate than the sex, which was surreal. Yaz’s fingers were pruned up with the Doctor’s arousal, and it was slick against the Doctor’s cheeks. When they pulled apart, the Doctor rubbed her nose against Yaz’s, and then she sighed. 

“Yaz?”

“Mm?” 

“I really want to eat you out,” the Doctor said, all in a rush. “And I really like just feeling you up. Outta the blue.”

“I like it too,” Yaz admitted, “The… outta the blue.” She gave the Doctor’s nipple a little tweak. “Just as long as I can return the favor, yeah?” 

“I think I can live with that,” the Doctor murmured, then she paused. “But maybe not in the laundry room,” she said. “I think I want to eat you out on a bed. And maybe don’t feel me up in the middle of a monster attack or… stuff like that. When I need my wits about you.”

Yaz snorted. “I’m sure we can negotiate something,” she said, and her hand slid down the Doctor’s arm, to interlace their fingers. She gave them a squeeze, and she shifted, her own arousal sticky in her knickers and cold against her thigh. 

The Doctor’s eyes drifted down to their fingers, then up at Yaz’s face, and she grinned from ear to ear. “Brilliant,” she said, and then she leaned in for another kiss.


End file.
